


It's Not The End

by tempered_rose



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Feels, German National Team, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miroslav retired from international football. Thomas reacts to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not The End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Anon on Tumblr who requested a fic for these two because Miro did retire today ;-;
> 
> Also, RIP Robin Williams. Not related to the fic, but nevertheless, there was a lot of sadness today.

The news broke mid-morning. It flashed across the screen and it was followed by a commentary from a nice blonde lady on the television. Thomas almost missed it; he would have, if he hadn’t glanced up at the mention of Miro’s name as he’d been pouring some juice for a snack. As it was, he kept on pouring, right up until the juice spilled over the top of the glass and onto his hand and the counter. Thomas swore and then reached for a towel to mop up the mess he’d made.

So that was that then. Miro had retired from international football.

While this wasn’t quite as unexpected as it had been with Fips, it still hurt. The excuses to share rooms with teams was gone. That was in fact Thomas’ first thought. _When am I going to see Miro again? How are we going to make this work?_ He reminded himself to breathe. They had talked about this once or twice before. It would be okay. _It was going to be fine._

Never the less, Thomas picked up his phone and sent Miroslav a text.

‘I know you’re busy, and probably being talked to by a bunch of people. I just want you to know that I love you and I’ll miss you.’

He almost deleted the message but he sent it anyway. Miro always told him that he had appreciated Thomas’ honesty and directness. There was no reason to change that now.

‘I’ve gone no where. I’m still here.’

The reply is quickly sent. Thomas almost lets himself believe that Miro was waiting for him to text. He doubts it as soon as he thinks it, but hey, a guy could let himself belief for a moment or two.

‘Oh, I know that. But…it’ll just be weird not seeing you with the team anymore. I’m not sure what I’m going to do now.’

Thomas winces. He hadn’t meant to be _that _honest. Pathetic. Why couldn’t you retract text messages again? Why did they have to send instantly? He put his phone down, the screen facing the counter, as he drank the juice he poured. It was tasteless. His throat had constricted and he was pretty sure he was going to die of mortification before Miro could reply. At least, that’s what he hoped anyway. A little bit.__

__His phone buzzed again and made the alert sound that came whenever Miro texted him. Of course the man had his own alert sound._ _

__Swallowing the mouthful of juice he had left, Thomas reached for the phone and checked the reply. At least Miro had the decency not to leave a one word (or letter) reply. That would’ve truly killed him. But this reply wasn’t much better._ _

__‘Oh, Thomas.’_ _

___Oh, Thomas_ indeed._ _

__Thomas didn’t get a long time to ponder Miro’s two-word reply before the phone started ringing with another customized ringtone. Miroslav’s. Thomas swallowed and he would’ve let it go to voicemail. His nervousness making him suddenly shy, but Miro would know differently. He would respect Thomas’ choice not to speak with him and he wouldn’t call back. Miro was the most understanding, patient man on the planet, Thomas thought._ _

__He slid the mark on the screen to answer the call and he put it on speaker as was his habit when he answered phone calls. Besides, no one was home right now to overhear him anyway. He muted the TV as Miroslav spoke._ _

__“Thomas, what do you think is going to change between us?”_ _

__He shook his head, but Miro couldn’t see him. Thomas’ voice had lost any trace of cockiness, assuredness, or any sort of self-confidence there was. He tried to think of a flippant, nonchalant comment but he had problems thinking of something to say. He didn’t want to seem like he didn’t care about Miro; that would be the furthest thing from the truth and they both knew it. He really didn’t have to worry or think so much he just needed to stop the train of thoughts, to shut up and answer his lover. He just needed—_ _

__“Thomas?”_ _

__Peace. Silence. Quiet. _At last_._ _

__“Everything.” He whispered and closed his eyes as his hand made a fist on the surface of his granite countertop._ _

__Miro was quiet only for a moment. “Thomas, nothing is going to change between us. I love you the same. Why do you worry? I will never stop loving you.”_ _

__“That’s not the point.” Thomas replied, eyes opening and he stared at the news report showing some clips of Miro training for Lazio._ _

__“What is the point?” He didn’t ask in any sort of frustrated tone. He was toneless, in fact. It could be excruciatingly annoying at times._ _

__“When would I see you now? With the national team, I just get you for a few days then we have to wait months again. That’s gone now.” Thomas said, voice starting small and getting louder as he went. Thankfully, mercifully, no one else was home. No one else was going to bear witness to his meltdown. No one, save Miroslav, the one person he never wanted to break in front of._ _

__“You are angry with me.” It wasn’t a question. Thomas let the anger—where had that even come from anyway?—vent through his mouth._ _

__“Yes! What am I supposed to do? How can we possibly make this work? I’m going to miss you every day you aren’t there! When the fuck am I going to see you? Did you even think about us when you did this? We could’ve had another year, two even! Why do it now? We just won the World Cup, Miro, why? Why couldn’t you wait till the Euros? You’re still the best. Why? How could you? Why did you leave me?”_ _

__Somewhere in the midst of his spiel, Thomas had slid down to the floor of his kitchen. Somewhere towards the end, his voice had broken and there were definitely tears in his eyes. His throat had closed up and it was hard to breath. His eyes stung with the unshed tears so he blinked, causing a few to start to roll down his cheeks. He loosened the death grip he had on his phone and tried to take a calming breath._ _

__Miro gave him a few moments to collect himself and Thomas tried to think of something else to say. He could hear Miro’s breathing and other background noise distant in the background. He tried to think of something, anything, to say, but every time he thought of something else, his throat got tighter and he couldn’t speak._ _

__“Thomas, we both know I’m getting older. Of course I thought of you. I do little else apart from that most of the time. As you said, we just won the World Cup. I’d rather retire from Germany now, on such a tremendous victory for our country, than start a tournament and maybe not do as well. I would rather focus on prolonging my club career for a little while longer.”_ _

__Miro delivered in a soft, polite tone. As he delivered most things that he would say. And he wasn’t wrong. It made sense. Thomas knew why. He didn’t want to admit it but he completely understood and agreed with what Miroslav was saying. He sniffled anyway._ _

__“As for the last of your statements against me,” Miro started and Thomas felt a little guiltier for that one than the others, “I have never left you Thomas. You know that if you asked it of me, even now, I would be on my way to your side. You know a footballer’s career can go down many roads. This road is mine. One day I will return to Germany, and to you. And you will grow tired of having me live so close, because you can’t just hang up on me when you get mad anymore.”_ _

__Thomas heard the smile in Miro’s voice at the last and finally his throat released. He took a deep breath, then another. Still, he didn’t speak yet. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t start crying all over again. He still needed a moment, and Miro was quiet for a while. Thomas lost track of how long it actually was before Miro spoke again._ _

__“Thomas, please speak to me.”_ _

__“I can’t.” Thomas mumbled._ _

__“And why is that?”_ _

__“I miss you too much.”_ _

__Quiet from the other end of the line. Thomas heard tapping on the screen of Miro’s phone, a trait he had learned quickly. Miro wasn’t the most efficient with ‘newfangled technology’._ _

__“What are you doing?” Thomas asked, sniffling halfway through his sentence._ _

__“Booking a ticket to Munich. Or trying to, anyway.”_ _

__Startled, Thomas winced as the back of the counter dug unforgivingly into his back. He’d forgotten he was on the floor._ _

__“What? You’re doing what?” He asked._ _

__“You heard me.” Miro replied and the tapping stopped._ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“Oh, Thomas.” Miro was undoubtedly shaking his head. Thomas could practically see him doing it. “I miss you too. And I want to see you. And, as you’ve said, since we don’t have the international breaks to see one another anymore, we’re going to have to make visits to one another. I’ll see you in a few hours.”_ _

__Thomas swallowed hard and a stir of excitement started to spread through his bloodstream._ _

__“Really?” He breathed._ _

__“I expect you’ll collect me from the airport?”_ _

__“Always, Miroslav. Always.” He whispered._ _

__“Then I will text you the flight details and I will see you soon. And Thomas?”_ _

__“Yes?”_ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__Thomas smiled. “I love you too.”_ _

__Miroslav hung up a moment later and Thomas took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. Except, that’s when Thomas realized something very horrific indeed._ _

__Crying from despair now, Thomas scrambled upwards and swore as he did so. “Fuck. Now I have to clean.”_ _

__He grabbed a sponge and a bucket and set to work on the house. By the time he brought Miro back home, this place was going to be spotless. Thomas promised himself and set to work, feeling a lot better than when he and Miro had begun to text. It was going to be okay._ _

__It was going to be fine._ _


End file.
